Authored space

You have your diary
and I, my poems
You have your secrets
and I, my tomes

Prayers, pines, Feelings
Happenstances of
Your life
Your love.
Observation, introspection
Reflections of
my life
my love.

Under the protection
of solitude
You spill your blue
and red upon
pages empty.
 Agoraphobically
I tip my bottle
smearing puddles
over everything
anything that will hold
the syllables in
chaotic order.

You have your diary
within the dark
You have your secrets
within your heart
I have my poetry
Making a mark
a spillage of ink

we’re not so
apart
not so different

You have your diary. . .